100 Hetalia Prompts
by adelineday64
Summary: I found a list of 100 prompts on Livejournal and decided to try it out with Hetalia. I'd appreciate it if people would review after reading. Current Chapter: Abandoned
1. Introduction

Austria and Hungary stood outside Prussia's front door, both hesitating to knock.

"You knock..." Hungary whispered, nudging Austria's arm. "He likes you more."

"No, you do it."

"No, you. He has a grudge against me. I've already told you."

"Fine." Austria sighed, bringing his hand up to the door and knocking.

"Greetings, suckers!" Prussia answered, swinging the door open and smirking at his two visitors.

"Glad to see you haven't changed." Austria remarked, as he and Hungary marched inside and entered the living room. There, a young adolescent sat all by himself reading a book, not noticing the extra people in the room. As Austria and Hungary gazed at him, they noticed the uncanny resemblance he had to Holy Roman Empire.

"Stand up and greet our guests!" Prussia snapped at the boy, and he immediately sprung to his feet.

"Hello, it is a pleasure to meet you two." The boy said with little emotion on his face, as if the line had been rehearsed.

"This is Germany, my little brother." Prussia said proudly, ruffling the boy's hair and grinning.

"My name is Austria."

"And I'm Hungary."

"We're married." Austria explained. Hungary grimaced.

"Well, let's get down to business!" Prussia urged, growing impatient. "The sooner we make this alliance, the better!"

"You're really afraid of Russia, aren't you?" Hungary asked.

"Am not! We're doing this so that I can protect you both if he invades!"

"Liar..." She muttered.

The three older nations sat down at the table to sign the treaty, only for Prussia to notice the empty fourth chair. Turning to look at Germany, he called the young country over to join them.

"Remember, you're a fully fledged nation. That means you should also have a part in these things."

* * *

**Germany, Austria and Hungary introduce themselves to each other.**

**On October 7 1879, Germany and Austria-Hungary signed the Dual Alliance Treaty, pledging to aid one another in the case of an invasion by Russia. Since Otto von Bismarck was Prussian by birth, I guess it would make sense for Prussia to still be the dominant one when it came to foreign relations.**


	2. Love

The two of them of met eyes in a bar in Paris.

She was beautiful, with her bright eyes and her red lips. He was handsome, giving off a suave air that slowly drew her towards him.

The woman approached the man, smiling flirtatiously while holding a glass of wine. She reached out and touched his hand gently.

They began to converse with each other, laughing and just generally enjoying being in each others presence. The man turned around and ordered extra drinks for him and his companion, before turning back towards her.

Later they stumbled out, half-drunk, on to the dark streets, leaning on each others shoulders for support. The next hour or so was a blur and soon the couple found themselves in a cozy looking bedroom.

"I love you, Francis..." The woman sighed, putting her arms around the man and bringing his face close to her's. They kissed each other passionately, falling on to the bed. Francis gazed deeply into her eyes, taking in her features, as she began to unbutton his shirt for him.

"I love you too..." Francis replied.

The rest of the night seemed just like a dream, vague and unreal. By morning, the events of the previous hours were but a distant memory, with little connection to the present.

Francis woke up to find an empty void beside him. His partner as it seemed, had left at least an hour ago, though he could still feel some remaining warmth where she had lain. _"I love you,"_ She had told him and he had chosen to believe it, hoping it would alleviate his feelings of loneliness, even for just a little while.

Climbing out of bed, Francis slowly got dressed, pondering the idea of love. It seemed that everything revolved around it these days: movies, songs, books..., yet it continued to puzzle him with its complexity and fleetingness.

People confessed their love for each other all the time, but how often did they truly mean it?


	3. Light

"Why does the sun move across the sky?" A young Rome asked.

Greece looked down at the little boy and smiled. "It's Helios travelling in his chariot, of course!"

"Where does he go at night?"

"He goes to sleep and his sister takes her turn in the chariot."

"I see. If the sun and moon are brother and sister, I guess that means..." Rome smiled mischievously.

"Huh?"

"I am the sun to your moon."

"Silly boy. We are but human, we can't compare ourselves to the Gods."

"But we are immortal, aren't we?"

"Yes, we are."

"So you could say we _are_ Gods, in flesh and blood bodies."

"You know, that way of thinking could get you in deep trouble in the future."

"I don't care. As long as I have you, everything will be fine."

Greece blushed. Despite being only a little boy, Rome was already as flirtatious as any grown man. She couldn't imagine what he would be like once he became an adult.

"Greece, why do we have light?" Rome asked, his innocent side taking over again.

"Without light, we wouldn't have day and there would be eternal darkness. Without it, we wouldn't have fire, which keeps us warm. Not only that, the crops that we rely on to survive, wouldn't be able to grow and we would all starve to death..."

"That would be terrible..." Rome interrupted. He yawned. "If light is so good, why do we need darkness?"

"Hmm, that's a hard one. I think you should give me some time to think about it. Maybe I'll tell you the answer tomorrow."

* * *

**It's pretty hard to write something based on the prompt 'light'.**

**In my opinion, Rome would have thought of Ancient Greece as his older sister when he was a child, since so much of his culture was based off hers.**


	4. Darkness

"It's been a while since we last spent time together, hasn't it?" Rome asked.

"Yes. How long has it been? A few months?" Greece replied, making an extra bed for her visitor.

Rome toddled towards the window and peered outside at the night sky. "You know, you promised to tell me about darkness last time we met."

Greece twitched as she remembered the conversation they had months before. She was going to have to just think of something right now.

"Well, darkness...it's an interesting thing. If we didn't have it, how would we sleep at night? Ha ha..." She chuckled, her words coming out awkwardly.

"I see..." Rome said with a yawn. He hopped down from where the window was and made his way to his bed.

"Though I also think that if we had daylight all the time, the sun would get tired. It needs to have a rest every now and then, thus we have darkness."

Greece took a deep breath before continuing, not noticing the tired look on Rome's face.

"One cannot exist without the other, in fact. The world is full of opposites. Just as we have moments of happiness and fortune, we must also know suffering and misery. That is the essence of - "

"Quiet. I'm trying to sleep here!" Rome called out in irritation, snapping Greece out of her trance.

"But you asked me..."

"You've said enough." Rome groaned, rolling over on his side so that he was facing away from her.

Greece stared at him for a moment in confusion. "What _did_ I say?" She wondered out loud, brushing some stray hairs off her face.

* * *

**In which Rome is a kid with a short attention span and Ancient Greece goes into philosopher mode. Modern Greece had to have got it from somewhere...**


	5. Seeking Solace

Germany and Prussia stood still as the enemy closed in on them. They were frozen in fear, uncertain of what fate would befall them.

"Put down your weapons." A voice ordered. They did as they were told, before placing their hands behind their heads as a sign of surrender.

A gun was cocked and Germany felt the cold metal press into his face. He let out a quiet cry that sounded abnormal, coming from a large man like him.

"Where is your boss? Hm?" Russia asked, lowering his voice and stooping slightly to stare into Germany's eyes.

"H-he's gone...he refused to be taken alive..."

"I see..." Russia said dully. "From now on, it's my job to mind you both until the others arrive."

* * *

Germany sat slumped against the hard wooden seat, feeling everyone's eyes upon him. The hours before had been like an awful trance, as the full extent of the crimes he, as a nation, had commited over the past decade, were laid out for the whole world to see.

Suddenly, Germany remembered Italy's smiling face and he clenched his teeth and fists in anger.

_That traitor, hiding everything behind his cheerful face. I should have known that he'd abandon us as soon as he had the chance._

"What you and your leaders did was unforgivable." Britain spoke up. "We shall make sure that you receive apt punishment for your crimes."

* * *

Burnt pieces of paper fluttered in the wind around Germany as he strode slowly down the abandoned street, mulling over his current plight. It was just as well that no one was around to disturb his thoughts.

Six years earlier, he had been just as excited as his citizens, when his boss had declared war against Britain and France. He had felt so strong back then, as if all the military power in the world couldn't keep him from achieving his goals. He was wrong of course, and now he was back where he was decades ago. What had he gained? He'd lost countless soldiers and civilians, his friends and the only family member he had; not to mention the fact that he now had to start again from scratch, in a hostile new world critical towards his every action and decision.

Germany continued to shuffle down the dim path, head bowed in despair, until he disappeared into the distance.


	6. Break Away

Taiwan's earliest memory was meeting a young man by the name of Koxinga. He named her as the Kingdom of Tunning and told her all about his life; how he had become a maritime commander and how he lost his position when the corrupt Qing Dynasty took over. Refusing to give up hope, he had fled to her island in the hope of raising an army to restore the Ming Dynasty.

Only a few months after she had met him though, he came down with a dreadful illness and never recovered. His death came as a shock to her and as she attended his funeral, she wondered if all humans lived such short lives.

Two more kings followed him, before she fell under control by China, the vast and powerful country across the sea from her. He refused to acknowledge her existence at first; compared to him, she was just a tiny pellet, a useless ball of flesh and one extra mouth to feed.

Therefore it surprised her when in 1895, China outright refused to hand her over to Japan. However in the end, he was forced to comply with the terms of the peace treaty and signed his name on the paper, ratifying the agreement. Just before she was sent away to meet Japan, she decided to ask China why he had been so reluctant to let her go.

"I think of you all as my children..." He answered, without making eye contact with her.

Life with Japan was quite complicated. He pushed her harder than anyone else had before, much to her dismay, and expected only the best from her. She was supposed to be the 'model colony' after all.

As the years went by, Japan's expectations became increasingly unreasonable. His behaviour towards her also became erratic, as he would regularly make harsh threats against her, in contrast to his previously stoic demeanour. It seemed the only times he was happy with her was when she behaved like 'a good Japanese citizen'.

News that the War was officially over provided her with great relief. Soon after, Japan left her island for good and returned home to help his country. After fifty years, she was finally reunited with China and the rest of family greeted her with open arms.

Of course things were never that simple. Just when it seemed she was going to live in peace with her relatives, she somehow got caught up in China's civil war. Before she knew it, Kuomintang forces were swarming into her home. Their leader, Chiang Kai-shek declared himself President of the Republic of China and once again, her home was to be used as a base for rebel forces hoping to overthrow a larger government. The similarities were far too striking.

Once China himself found out, he became furious, going so far as to threaten to destroy her completely. He probably would have gone through with it too, if it weren't for America's intervention.

Come the present day, Taiwan would still find herself thinking of Koxinga every now and then. From the moment he had settled down on her island, he had unknowingly set the course for the rest of her life. That was her, forever the rebel state, her main purpose to resist larger and oppressive nations. How much longer she would last, she had no idea. She preferred not to think too much about her future, since such things were best left a mystery. Plus, her life was already stressful enough on its own.

* * *

I tried my best to sort through all the information I found on Taiwanese history. If anything doesn't make sense, let me know kindly.


	7. Heaven

"Have you ever wondered what it's like to be among the clouds?" Italy said dreamily while staring up at the sky, lying down on the grassy hill.

"Yeah..." Holy Roman Empire replied, sitting up slowly and glancing at his companion.

"I bet Grandpa Rome's somewhere up there. I wonder what he's doing right now."

"Probably having fun, surrounded by wine and girls."

"But Holy Rome, that would be sinful!" Italy exclaimed, rising abruptly. "Heaven is only for those with pure hearts and souls!"

Holy Roman Empire blinked, trying to make sense of what Italy meant. Following his logic, wouldn't it mean that Grandpa Rome didn't belong in Heaven?

"Sorry..." Holy Roman Empire apologized.

"It's alright."

The two young nations continued to sit together in silence for several moments, before Italy grew bored once again.

"If only there was a way to see what was going on up there..."

"Huh?"

"I could find out exactly what my Grandpa is doing."

"Italy, that would be impossible."

"How would you know?"

"Because Heaven is too far off for us humans to reach. The only way to get there is to die."

Italy paused. "How long do you think I have left?" He finally asked.

"A long time."

"Can't be. I'm always being picked on by everyone, and people are always fighting at my place..." Italy sniffed, wiping a tear from his eye.

"You're not going to die! You have to stay alive for me..."

"But..."

"Italy..." Holy Roman Empire took a deep breath. "You're strong too, just not in the same way as others. I know, I've seen the way you handle business and how you stand up to your superiors."

"You've been spying on me...?"

"Yes..." Holy Roman Empire blushed. "But the point is, there's still plenty of hope for you."

"I'm glad you've told me all of this...thank you, Holy Rome."

"No, you don't have to."

"Well, I must go home now. I have business to attend to, as you just reminded me!" Italy said cheerily. He stood up and brushed his clothes clean, before running off.

"She's so emotional..." Holy Roman Empire said to himself, once Italy was out of sight.


	8. Innocence

America gazed at the toy soldier in his hand. He took it out of the basement and a ray of sunlight shone on it, revealing the faded colours. A long time ago, it had been just another part of the large set England made for him. Funny how it held so much significance for him now.

When he was a child, he had been perfectly happy to answer to England's beck and call. As he grew older though, he began to wonder if there was more to life than just following someone's orders. Those thoughts soon turned into very real dreams, and the prospect of freedom overtook his mind.

After he had gained independence, the world seemed full of hope and promise for him. He was something entirely different from those older European nations, he knew. While they were all busy fighting and destroying each other, he would establish himself as the ideal state, an example for the rest of the world to follow. There would be no inequality and everyone would have the chance to pursue their dreams.

It seemed like an easy plan, but it wasn't. It turned out normal humans were far more complicated than he imagined. No matter how hard he and his government tried to institute equality, issues always arose.

After the Civil War, his dreams were thoroughly crushed and as he came to terms with the results of what his own citizens had done, he didn't feel so special anymore. Nevertheless, there was some lingering hope in his mind that perhaps there was still a chance.

* * *

America collapsed on to his bed in exhaustion and reflected on the day's events. He'd been busy seeing his boss, dealing with stubborn politicians and trying his best to sort things out with other nations. There was the crap tonne of debt he owed the world, his relationship with Russia and China, the problems in Korea and the Middle East...the list went on. It was no surprise that he seldom had the time to think clearly enough anymore, or even just lie back and relax.

Well he did have some free time each day, but he always spent most of it working out and keeping himself fit. His public image was really important, after all. God forbid he actually succumb to the 'fat' stereotype people were associating him with.

His fingers curled around the old toy soldier and he gave it a quick glance. The days when he played without a care and when life was simple, were over, and so was his innocence. He knew now that the real world was far from being pleasant and idealistic.

Then again, one could still dream, couldn't they?


	9. Drive

Peter Kirkland stood by himself in the hallway, holding the telephone receiver. That jerk Britain had once again refused to recognize his independence, even after everything he'd done.

"But I stood up to those faceless white aliens. Wasn't I awesome enough?" He asked himself, but then he remembered how his epic stand was cut short when they turned him into one of them. Still, it was the courage that counted, right?

Then again, what did those grown-ups know what it was like to be him? He was still a child in their eyes, even though he was at least forty-five in human years.

Just how much further was he going to have to go to prove himself worthy of independence? The answer was still uncertain, but he knew that as long as he had the drive, they would all eventually have to recognize him.

_They had to._


	10. Breathe Again

_October 22, 1962_

The moment Cuba saw America standing outside the front door, he knew he was in trouble.

"We know you're harboring nuclear missiles in your house. Russia sent you them, right?"

"No, of course not!" Cuba denied.

"Then explain this. Large trucks we seen around your place, transporting suspicious looking objects. Tell me those weren't weapons."

"I don't know what you mean!"

"How about this, then?" America questioned, producing a clear photograph and waving it in Cuba's face. "This is just one out of 928 pictures that have been taken and examined by the CIA."

Cuba froze. He had indeed agreed to collect nuclear weapons from Russia. America was no fool.

"Y-you've got me..." He stammered. A bead of sweat was visible on his forehead and he wiped it away instinctively.

"Relax, we decided against attacking you. You're under quarantine." America said sternly, noticing Cuba's expression.

"What?! You can't do that to me! I have a right to defend myself!"

* * *

_October 23  
_

"Turkey refuses to withdraw his too." America said in disappointment, slamming the telephone receiver down. He turned and gave a Cuba a glare that was genuinely frightening, before breaking into a manic grin. "Think about it, one wrong move from either of us and boom, nuclear war!"

"Y-you're mad!" Cuba screamed from his chair. "Don't you know what that means?"

"I do know, but it's kind of your fault anyway." America chuckled.

"My fault! A man has a right to defend himself! You can't take away my right!" Cuba reaffirmed, pointing at himself.

* * *

_October 25  
_

"It seems everyone's talking about us now. You're famous, you know."

"We're all going to die, aren't we..." Cuba moaned, his voice faltering. "_And it will be partly my fault..." _

The past couple of days under America's watchful eyes had been nerve-wracking for him, and when you combined that with the threat of a possible nuclear war brought about by his actions, you could understand why Cuba seemed so exhausted.

Each breath he took came out ever so slightly harder than the other, and it had nothing to do with the cigars he regularly smoked. That reminded him, it had been days since he'd last had one. Maybe he was just suffering from withdrawal effects?

* * *

_October 26  
_

"Russia's still not backing down. At this point, we might have to prepare for an invasion..." America spoke dully into the phone, as Cuba looked on. Just whom he was talking to was unclear.

* * *

_October 27  
_

America entered the living room, a grim look on his face. "One of my pilots was just shot down by one of your 'missiles'. Please tell me it wasn't you..."

"No..." Cuba replied.

"It better not be, 'cause when I found out who it is..." America said, bunching his fist up tightly in a threatening gesture.

* * *

_October 28  
_

"There's been a change of plans." America announced as he put on his coat.

"What?"

"Russia's boss just sent out a message. Apparently, he's going to have the weapons dismantled and taken back to Russia."

"So...?"

"Yeah, you're off the hook!" America exclaimed, back to his old self. "You should have seen what you were like yesterday, totally scared shitless!"

Cuba's jaw dropped. There was just no way of understanding America, was there?

"Well so long, fat guy. I'm going back to see my boss!"

* * *

"I can't begin to describe how relieved I am that this whole crisis is over." Britain sighed with relief as he turned off the radio, thus cutting the news report short. "I thought the world was going to end for sure, but since everything is still intact..."

He took a sip of tea and laid back in his armchair, breathing slowly to relax himself.

* * *

**And there's my very unreliable take on the Cuban Missile Crisis. It is neither accurate or thorough, so please do not use it as a guide or reference!  
**


	11. Memory

Germany and Italy stood on a hill together, admiring the view down below. Italy turned towards Germany with a smile on his face.

"It seems strange. I used to come here sometimes with Holy Rome in the past. This place hasn't changed much..."

"Holy Rome, you say?"

"Yeah!"

"Tell me what he was like."

"Well Germany, he really admired my Grandpa Rome! He wanted to be just like him, in fact! He spent so much time chasing me, asking me if I wanted to join him..."

* * *

"Then France defeated him and he dissolved..." Italy said sadly, finishing his speech.

"Hmm, an interesting story..."

"No, there's more!"

"More?!" Germany shuddered. He had just sat through a whole hour of Italy's melodramatic story telling, and now he wasn't sure if he could handle another minute.

"He promised to come back for me, but he had to let himself die!" Italy griped, clenching one fist.

"I see, anyone would be upset..." Germany said offhandedly.

"I wonder what became of the deck brush I gave him? Did he use it before he went to battle? Make the house nice and clean so he wouldn't have to do anything later?"

"Did you say 'deck brush'?!" Germany asked, twitching.

"Yes. What of it?"

"When Prussia took me home for the first time, I saw an old one just lying there out in the open. It was covered in cobwebs like it hadn't been used for a while...why am I saying this?!"

"I don't know. It's strange, isn't it? You even look like him..." Italy remarked casually, much to Germany's alarm.

"That's enough!" Germany cried, unable to hear any more. He ran down the hill and away from Italy, as fast as he could.

* * *

_"What is wrong with him? It's almost as if he was trying to lure me into confessing some deep secret..." _Germany thought frantically, as he rummaged through a box in the cellar. He pulled out the worn out deck brush and stared straight at it, losing track of time.

Hours later, Prussia came home and called out Germany's name. When there was no reply, he panicked and began to search everywhere for his brother.

He found him sitting in the cellar by himself, looking down at the floor as if in deep thought.

"Brother, I think I've remembered..." Germany said quietly without turning around. "I was..."

"Yes, you were. If it weren't for me, you'd be gone for good. You lost your memories in the process, though..."


	12. Insanity

They were all afraid of him. His sisters, the Baltic nations, Finland, Germany, China...and he didn't know why.

"Why are they so scared of me? I do everything I can for them." Russia said to himself miserably, taking a swig of vodka.

He thought of Belarus and Ukraine, and how close they once were as a family. They should have been happy to see him again but instead, Ukraine had given him a cold glare while young Belarus cowered behind her in fear. He was their brother, what was it about him that they could possibly dislike?

Then there was the Baltic Trio: Lithuania, Latvia and Estonia. For some reason, they always seemed unhappy, as if living under his care wasn't good enough for them. It was such a shame. They'd be helpless without a strong country like him around, so why were they always trying to run away from him? It just didn't make sense.

Sure, he had physically injured them before, but that was only because they were misbehaving.

The other day, he had overheard Finland whispering to Estonia that Sweden was a far better caretaker than him.

_"At least he allowed me some freedom, every now and then." _The words echoed in Russia's head.

Freedom? It was a dangerous thing, one of his bosses had explained to him once. Give people too much of it, and they were to bound to rebel. One just had to look at a map to know it was true. On the other side of the world, lay America, Britain's 'biggest mistake'.

Russia let the empty bottle drop to the floor, and watched as it rolled all the way to the other side of the room.

In an attempt to feel more secure about himself, he'd been trying to befriend China, his eastern neighbour. He figured that if he could get on his good side, China might just be willing to share some of his vast knowledge. Despite his efforts, China continued to have an aversion to him, even to this day.

The way everyone was treating him was becoming harder and harder to bear. Even now, he could feel a flurry of emotions building up in his chest, telling him to just let it out.

At that moment, Lithuania entered the room to find something to drink. As soon he saw Russia though, he began to back away in fear.

_"Not again, not again...he hates me...he hates me...but I haven't done anything to him..." _A voice rasped in Russia's mind. He felt his muscles go numb and lost control of his body. Before he knew it, his hand was around Lithuania's neck and the other was curled up in a fist, ready to deliver a punch.

"Please, no...!" Lithuania choked. He tried to loosen Russia's grip but it was no use, he was too strong.

* * *

Russia blinked in confusion. The clock seemed to suggest that several minutes had lapsed, yet he felt as if no time had passed at all. He looked down at his hands and noticed the drops of blood around him. Where did they come from? It wasn't his blood, was it?

Elsewhere, Lithuania stood quietly in front of the mirror, washing the dried blood off his face. He eyed his reflection and struggled to hold back his sobs.

That evening, Russia dined by himself. He had made sure to invite his sisters and his friends, but they still showed no sign of turning up. Once again, he began to feel a burning sensation building up in his chest...


	13. Misfortune

Lithuania shut the bathroom door tightly behind him and began to undress, letting his clothes drop to the floor. He paused for a moment, than had second thoughts. He gathered up his clothes and placed them on a bench.

He stepped into the bath tub and felt the warm water against his skin, numbing the pain in his back. He reached behind him and touched one of his scars gently, thinking back over his life.

Where had it all gone wrong? He had once been a large and powerful nation, whom people respected. He met Poland, and they were forced to unite with each other. While the relationship was pretty one sided at times, Lithuania had to admit Poland really wasn't that bad of a guy.

The Cossack Uprising and the Northern Wars took quite a large toll on him, leaving him unable to properly defend himself against Russia. He fell under Russia's control and most of his land was taken away from him; not only that, he also lost Belarus, his favourite subordinate.

After that, he became temporarily consumed with loneliness and guilt. Guilt for not attempting to do anything to set things right, not that it would have made much difference. Russia would have crushed him like an ant anyway.

In 1918, partially due to Germany's intervention, he was able to regain some of his independence. However, the damage had already been done. It was clear he would never be able to return to his past glory.

His merge with Belarus did produce a spark of hope in him though. With him as the dominant one, his mind began to race. Perhaps there was a way for him to climb back up among the great powers of Europe, if he could only use her as a stepping stone. While it seemed logical, something nagged at his conscience and in the end, nothing ever came of his secret plan.

World War Two came by and he once again ended up with Russia, this time under far worse conditions than before. Such was his life, that when the German army came knocking, he welcomed them with open arms. He doubted that anyone could be as cruel as Russia, but he was very wrong, as he quickly found out.

What he did during that period scarred his mind and he had pushed it out of his head, trying to erase it from his memory.

World War Two ended and he put his deeds behind him, settling down in the Soviet Union along with the other two Baltic states, whom until then he had never made much effort to get to know.

In the late eighties, he, Latvia, and Estonia decided to stand up to Russia together. They figured that if they combined their strength, they might just stand a chance against him. It was a harrowing experience, but in the end it worked.

He'd lived quite an unfortunate life, but he was still alive and in one piece, which was more than what he could say about a certain other arrogant young man he knew in the past.

True, he still had a long way to go if he was to join the top ranks in the world, but if he pushed himself hard enough, who knew what he could achieve?


	14. Smile

Vietnam watched him out of the corner of her eye. From the looks of it, he was talking with a couple and smiling brightly like he tended to do.

She always wondered how one could smile as much as him. It seemed that even during serious or emotionally trying situations, he continued to retain the same signature facial expression. Not that it was a bad thing. A cheerful face and disposition could help people through all sorts of hardships.

Without realizing, she began to focus more directly on him. It was only when the couple went back to their usual business that he noticed the young woman staring at him.

"Good morning, Vietnam. It's a pleasure meeting you here." He greeted her. The corners of his lips were curled upwards ever so slightly, yet his eyes seemed serious.

"Hello, Thailand..." Vietnam greeted him back. She had come here for a reason, but that reason now escaped her mind. She wasn't sure if it was the heat of the sun, or Thailand's radiating cheerfulness, but she felt all warm and fluttery inside.

The words escaped her mouth before she even had time to register what she had said. Thailand's eyes widened a little.

_"Teach me how to smile like you."_


	15. Silence

Japan strode through the forest all by himself, determined to reach his destination. He had travelled out here away from Kyoto and the bustling crowds.

Over the years, he'd found that coming to this place had a calming effect on him. The peacefulness gave him a chance to clear his mind and briefly forget his worries.

Today, by some chance, there just happened to be no one else around. It was a very rare privilege, especially in this age, when his people were increasingly so rapidly in number and spreading out across the land.

Japan stopped in front of a shrine and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. He knelt down and began to pray quietly, his voice breaking the silence.


	16. Questioning

"How d'you like Stockholm?" Sweden asked Finland, as he clasped the shorter man's hand.

"It's alright, I guess..." Finland answered, smiling and looking around nervously.

Sweden noticed Finland's uncomfortable behaviour and looked down at him sympathetically. For some reason though, this only served to frighten the young man even more.

"I-I think I need a drink..." Finland stammered. He yanked his hand away and coughed to emphasize his point.

"Let's get you one then."

* * *

"This wasn't quite what I had in mind..." Finland said to himself, looking down at his stein of beer. He turned to Sweden, who was swallowing the liquid casually, and attempted to imitate him.

As the beer touched his tongue, Finland took note of the taste; a bit strange, but he could definitely get used to it.

Sweden slammed his drink down and glared at Finland.

"D'you like me?"

"Uh..." Finland paused, taking a second to swallow whatever was left in his mouth and pay attention to Sweden's question.

"What did you say?"

"D'you like me?"

"I guess...of course I do! Why would I hate you?"

"I don't believe you." Sweden said sadly, glancing behind him. A young woman giggled at him mischievously. He turned back to Finland. "Let's go."

"Already? But I've only had one drink!"

"Just come." Sweden insisted, grabbing Finland by the arm and dragging him outside, despite his protests. As the two of them hurried along, Finland noticed the bemused stares of passers-by and wondered what had gotten into Sweden's mind.

Later, they stopped by Lake Mälaren to catch their breaths. As Finland gazed at the clear blue water, he felt a hand press down on his shoulder.

"Sve?"

"Nice lake, isn't it?"

"Yes...what are you getting at?"

"Want to see anything else?"

"No, thank you. I think I want to go home." Finland answered firmly. He'd had enough strangeness for one day and Sweden...well, he was weird also.

* * *

Sweden gave Finland a puzzled look and wondered what he was doing wrong. He had shown him his pleasant city, bought him a nice drink and taken him to a beautiful lake, yet his eastern neighbour continued to regard him with surprise, as if he were the strange one.

Not that Sweden was fully aware of why he felt this way about his neighbour. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but ever since Finland had come under his wing, he'd had an overwhelming desire to protect and care for him at all costs. He'd even found himself dreaming of him some nights, which muddled his mind even more.

Now that he thought of it, over all the centuries he had been alive, Sweden had never really felt much attraction towards any woman. He'd seen quite a lot of beautiful women in his time too, so it must have been something wrong with him.

He thought of the other Nordics: Denmark, Norway and Iceland. He wasn't sure about Iceland, but he knew for a fact that Denmark loved women.

As for Norway, despite his usually stoic demeanour, Sweden had caught him eyeing young girls more than once, even if he tried to deny it afterwards.

That left him as the odd one out. The one who just couldn't look at women in _that _way, only ever remaining at the conversational stage with them. Now that he was experiencing odd feelings for another man, perhaps it wasn't women he was supposed to be attracted to in the first place.

Unfortunately, while such an explanation was logical, it was also unthinkable. If his boss and the general public were to find out, who knew what they might say or do? It was probably best to keep it a secret for the time being.

"Sve, I'm going home!" Finland called out, his voice cutting into Sweden's thoughts and alerting him to his surroundings.

"Oh...um, take care." Sweden replied.

Finland smiled gratefully at Sweden, before going off on his own way.

Sweden looked at the calm waters of the lake and broke into a smile, uncontrollably.

* * *

**I was originally going to have this be chapter be like an interrogation scene, but then I found out the word 'questioning' can also refer to someone re-assessing their sexual orientation or gender identity. I hope I did a good enough job.**


	17. Blood

Blood in the streets, blood on the houses, blood on his clothes.

China stood still, the wind gently swaying his emaciated body. He looked around slowly and fearfully at the aftermath of the carnage that his enemy had wreaked.

Violent images flashed in his mind; the silver blade stained red, slicing through innocent civilians and sending them to their demise. The killer's psychotic smile burned itself into China's memory, leaving a lasting imprint that refused to fade away.

The smell of blood and rotting flesh overpowered China and he slumped on to the ground, his energy fast draining away. At this rate, he wouldn't even have enough strength to stand his ground against the invaders.


	18. Rainbow

England gazed up at the rainbow, marvelling at it's radiance and beauty. The air was cool and he could feel the damp grass brushing against his shoes.

How he loved it, the feeling he got whenever heavy rain ceased.

He looked into the distance and noticed how the rainbow arched over the meadow, coming to an end near an old tree. He was reminded of something that Ireland told him a while ago, that one could find a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.

England began to run forward as fast as he could, so that he could reach the other side before the rainbow faded for good. Halfway there however, he came to a stop and looked around in confusion. It seemed that the rainbow itself had shifted somehow, and that for all the running he had done, he still wasn't any closer to its end.

"Playing tricks on me, eh?" He said out loud, before breaking into a sprint. Just a bit closer...no...no...it was disappearing! The pot of gold!

"Fuck!" England cried, falling forward on to the mud and grass. He rolled over and threw a tantrum, just like the bratty little kid he was, screaming and waving his fists in the air.


	19. Grey

North Korea strolled down the street by himself. Across the road from him a couple of soldiers stood staring straight at him, ever vigilant. Ever since the new Great Leader had come into power, he'd seldom had enough time to go outside and breathe the fresh air.

Who was he kidding? The air was anything but fresh. Smog hovered over much of his city, making the sky seem dull and cloudless. The buildings around him all looked similar, with their concrete walls and faded colours.

Every so often, North Korea would catch a glimpse of life on the other side of the 38th parallel. At night, if he looked hard enough, he could make out a multitude of street lights at his brother's side of the peninsula. How bright it was, in contrast to his own place. He wondered just what went on over there, that would require such excessive energy usage. There was also that time where he swore he could hear pop music blaring on the other side, but his superiors simply handwaved it as him experiencing hallucinations and sent him away to 'rehabilitate' for a short period.

More and more, his living conditions were taking their effect on him. He spent most of his days in his cramped and colourless apartment room. Everyday was just the same, listening to his radio and the Great Leader, riding to work, coming home and watching state programs (he was lucky to have a good television). One of the only highlights for him was the annual Arirang Festival, where he would be able to see a whole flurry of bright colours, performances, singing and dancing. It always gave him a special thrill, and he would go home feeling proud of himself and his people, until things went back to their usual routine.

North Korea stepped out from the corner and continued down the street, adjusting his uniform. He glanced at his faint reflection in a window, taking in his own gaunt features, plain face and shaved hair. He was just as dull and grey as his surroundings.

* * *

**The sheer differences between North and South Korea have always amazed me. On one side, you have a military dictatorship and a poor human rights record while on the other, you have one of the world's strongest economies, K-pop, advanced technology, etc.**

**I used my OC version of North Korea.**


	20. Fortitude

The old man knelt down on the ground, seeing to a young boy's injuries.

"Mummy...mummy..." The boy cried quietly, his hands quivering in fear. The old man reached over and clasped his hands, stopping them from shaking.

"Your mother is gone..." He said for the fifth time that night, but still the child didn't understand. He was still an innocent five year old, unaware of the full extent of the war that was going on, the war that was tearing apart the country and destroying lives everywhere.

"I'm scared..." The boy whimpered, as a cold wind blew through the tent.

At that moment, a young woman burst in, taking the old man by surprise. Judging from her uniform and the gun she was holding, she was a member of the People's Army, the one that was fighting for their freedom.

Then he saw her face. A good portion of it looked as if it had been blown off. There was just a bloody and mangled mess where her right cheek and most of her nose should have been, and as for her jaw...

Blood drained from the old man's face, and his thoughts immediately travelled towards the recently orphaned child behind him. A landmine had blown his leg off and killed his mother, just as the face of the young woman had been disfigured.

To his shock, she simply grabbed for a container of healing balm and began to smear it nonchalantly all over herself.

"Miss! Please stop, there's a spare bed here! Just let me help you!" The old man cried, trying to hold her arm still, but she shook him off effortlessly.

"Don't worry, Mr Ho. I've had much worse than this before." She said calmly, putting the healing balm back where she found it.

"What do you mean?! How can you still speak?!"

"The balm must be doing it's work. Listen, Mr Ho. Don't worry about me at all. Continue doing what you're doing and keep the children safe."

"H-how do you know my name? Y-your face...it's..."

"We will win this war. I promise." She said firmly, before picking up her gun and running outside again to risk her life.

* * *

Vietnam fired relentlessly, taking as many of the enemy soldiers as she could. She watched them dropping down dead one by one, and couldn't help but feel guilt for what she was doing. _"This is war though, the rules are different." _She reminded herself, driving the guilt out of her head.

A bomb landed nearby and went off, the blast sending her hurtling through the air and landing face first into the muddy ground. She got up as quickly she could, paying no heed to her aching legs and ran on, braving the rest of the battlefield.

* * *

**A Vietnam War oneshot. You have to hand it to them for being so strong and resilient, despite everything that was going on.  
**


	21. Vacation

Alfred carried his suitcase and bags out of the house and got into the car. He sat down behind the steering wheel and started up the engine, grinning. It was that time of the year again, the one time he was able to take a break and go where he pleased. The previous year, he'd gone to Hawaii for a few days. This year, he felt like traveling to California. He figured it would be a nice change from the usual business in New York. He could go to the beach, eat ice cream, go surfing or swimming and sleep in...

Alfred arrived at the airport and upon finding that there was still plenty of time before his scheduled flight, decided to buy something to eat. Later, he sat in the lounge, burger in hand, waiting for the airplane to arrive. It was going to be good week, he knew it.


	22. Mother Nature

"What are you doing...?" Ivan asked his older sister, whom was busy digging a large hole in the ground. She stabbed the shovel into the soil with an intense look on her face, determined to finish whatever she had in mind.

"I'm digging a hole, silly." She answered tersely without looking at her younger brother.

"I know that. Why are you doing it? That's what I meant."

"Don't you know?" She dropped her shovel and stood up to face Ivan, placing her hands on his shoulders. "Watch and learn."

Ivan blinked as she produced a jar from underneath her robes and held it in front of her.

"Ivan, repeat after me." She instructed him firmly, closing her eyes and beginning to chant.

_"Mother Earth, subdue every evil and unclean being so that he may not cast a spell on us nor do us any harm. Mother Earth, engulf the unclean power in thy boiling pits, and in thy burning fires. Mother Earth, calm the winds coming from the South and all bad weather. Calm the moving sands and whirlwinds. Mother Earth, calm the North winds and clouds, subdue the snowstorms and the cold."_

By the time his sister had finished her prayer, Ivan looked even more dumbfounded than before. He had tried to follow her words but had given up after the first sentence; it had been a little too complicated for him to keep up.

He watched as she placed the jar inside the hole she had dug, before getting down on her knees and whispering something into the earth.

"Now it's your turn." She prompted Ivan.

"What am I supposed to do?"

"Just kneel down and whisper your sins into the hole, like I just did."

"Why?"

"So Mother Earth can hear them and hopefully forgive you."

"What if she doesn't?"

"Then our fields will die and we'll starve this year."

"Oh."

Ivan swallowed and knelt down beside the large hole. His sister had told him to confess his sins, but what exactly was a sin?

"Sister, what's a sin?"

"It's when you do something bad or naughty. Now whisper into the hole."

"Alright...here goes..." Ivan lowered his head so that the jar was the only thing he could see. He sifted through his memory for all the bad things he'd done lately.

_"Mother Earth, I'm sorry for not eating my fish when sister told me to, I'm sorry for not cleaning the floor properly, I'm sorry for pushing my sister down a hill, I'm sorry for dropping that baby and making his mother cry..."_

"Did you really drop a baby?!" Ukraine cried, interrupting his confessions.

"No...I mean, yes..."

"The poor thing! You should apologize to them tomorrow. Won't you?"

"I-I will!" Ivan stammered, his face turning red in guilt. He lowered his gaze, afraid to make eye contact with his sister, asked her a question that had been stuck in his mind for the past minute.

"What sins did you do?"

"That's none of your business."

"But you heard mine..."

"Fine, I'll only tell you if you promise to do all of the chores in the house for one week."

"That's not fair!" Ivan protested.

"I know..." She said with a giggle. "Come, help me bury the jar now. Then we can go home."

* * *

**'Mat Zemlya' or 'Mother Earth'/'Mother Nature' was a Slavic goddess. The prayer I included in this chapter was apparently an actual one that people used to address her.**

**Bonus Question: What kind of sins do you think Ukraine confessed? I'd like to see your answers in the reviews, please.**


	23. Cat

Belgium hurried home, holding several grocery bags with both hands. As she walked briskly across the pavement towards the front door, there was a rustling in the hedge nearby. A sudden yelp and a black cat emerged, carrying a freshly killed mouse in its mouth. It's bright yellow eyes met Belgium's as it ran past in front of her.

A cat had just crossed her path. Would she be blessed with good luck or would she be cursed with bad?

"Don't be silly. It's just superstition..." She told herself, but why did she suddenly feel a sense of foreboding? Surely a single cat couldn't possess so much power as to influence a person's fate?


	24. No Time

Italy sat at his desk, staring at the blank piece of paper in front of him. He was supposed to write a financial report for the next European Union meeting, but so far he'd been unable to figure out how to start.

_"If only Germany wasn't such a slave-driver..." _He thought to himself, as he began to doodle absentmindedly on the page. He soon slipped into a dreamlike trance, completely unaware that his doodles were fast becoming a full scale drawing.

"Hey, Veneziano!" Romano yelled from the other room, snapping him back to reality. "What's for lunch?!"

Italy turned around with a start.

"Ravioli!" He answered after a few seconds of consideration.

"Then come out and help me cook. You're the better chef anyway." Romano said wearily.

It took roughly an hour to prepare their meal and another hour to eat it. When they were both fully sated, they lay down to have their siestas. They slept for around two hours before they woke, feeling refreshed.

The rest of Monday passed by sluggishly (both of the Italy brothers had been hit with a particularly bad case of Monday sickness this week).

Italy swore to himself on Tuesday that he would begin working on the financial report by that night, but once evening actually came around, he found himself too tired to concentrate and collapsed on to his bed with a heavy sigh.

"There's always tomorrow..." He reassured himself.

On Wednesday, Italy attempted to go for a walk to find inspiration. Why he would need inspiration to write a financial report, he himself didn't know. It just seemed like a good idea. However, upon returning home he noticed that the state of his car wasn't quite up to standard; he soon got to work washing it, inspecting the tires, waxing it, and so on.

Hours later, Italy stood back and admired his work. His car now looked brand new and shiny; it was amazing what a bit of good car wax could do.

On Thursday he once again forced himself to focus on the report, only to be distracted by an unfinished drawing hanging on the wall.

On Friday, Italy was supposed to go on a date with a girl he'd met the previous week. She failed to show up for some reason, and he spent the rest of the night wandering around, visiting various locations.

The Italy brothers spent most of Saturday shopping for the following week and by the time they had finished, it was late afternoon. They went home, had a long dinner and stayed up late watching TV.

On Sunday morning, they both attended church and sat through the tedious sermon, livened up only by the priest's interesting hand gestures. It was only until Sunday night that Italy remembered that the European Union meeting was the very next day and panicked, scribbling whatever came to mind on a fresh sheet of paper.

After three hours of anxiety, Italy finally dropped his pen and stumbled over to his bed, feeling more exhausted than he'd ever been (or so he thought).

* * *

Italy handed his report to Germany before taking a seat at the table, putting on a wide smile to hide any doubts he possibly had. Germany quickly flipped through the pages, his eyes widening until Italy was sure they couldn't get any bigger.

"I'm sorry, but I can't read your writing." Germany said in defeat, handing the papers back to Italy.

"Oh, there's no need to be sorry, Germany. I wrote it all in a rush, I guess I didn't have any time..." Italy began to chuckle.


	25. Trouble Lurking

Russia opened the closet to get a clean set of pajamas when he noticed that something was off. His life size Cheburashka stuffed doll had somehow moved and was now in _there_.

"How did you get in here? I'm sure I left you on the couch in the living room an hour ago. There's no way you could find your way into my closet, right?" Russia said to Cheburashka with a smile. He shook it affectionately and for a moment, he thought he heard a whimper, but he dismissed it as his imagination playing tricks on him.

Russia carried Cheburashka downstairs and sat it back down on the living room couch where it belonged. He rubbed his tense hands together after performing the difficult task (for some reason, his Cheburashka seemed to have grown a lot heavier).

A couple of hours later, Russia was fast asleep in his cosy bed, dreaming happily of frolicking in a field of sunflowers with his two sisters.

Meanwhile, in the living room, the Cheburashka doll began to twitch and raised his furry arms to his head. It pulled its head off and placed it quietly on the couch beside it before standing up and slowly making its way towards the large staircase.

Russia rolled over in his sleep and smiled sweetly, oblivious to the sound of the door creaking open. A paw rested itself on the side of the door, as a female voice uttered scratchily.

"Big brother..." Belarus whispered, as she crept into bed with him.


	26. Tears

America stormed through the front door, his small face contorted in misery and his fists rolled up. He caught England's attention, and the latter walked towards him with a concerned look on their face.

"America, is everything alright? What happened to the flowers I gave you?"

America began to sniff and stared up at England. "D-Davie..." He whimpered, rubbing tears out of his eyes.

"Who's Davie?"

"My friend."

England seemingly froze, as if the notion of America having friends was completely alien to him.

"Did your friend hurt you?" He finally asked.

"N-No!" America cried, sniffing again. More tears rolled down his cheeks. His sniffs turned into sobs and he pushed past England, ran into his room and slammed the door shut behind him.

Several minutes passed and the only sound that could be heard inside was America's crying. England, feeling concerned, walked up to the bedroom door and knocked.


	27. Foreign

Veneziano sat in bed, scratching his head at the weird dream he'd had. Words couldn't describe the strangeness of it all.

_He had stepped off out of a large merchant ship and into a loud, busy harbour just like he sometimes did at home. What was different in this case though, was the fact that everyone around him seemed to have the same dark hair and dark eyes. They shouted at each other in their strange language and regarded him as if he were an exotic animal._

_From the harbour, he walked around aimlessly, taking in his new surroundings. As he made his way cautiously through a busy street, a odd but pleasant smell caught his interest. He followed his nose towards the source of the scent and stopped in front of what he assumed was a stall of some sort. Anyway, a fat man stood behind it, stretching long white strings of dough._

_Veneziano watched intently as the man finished through the white strings into a large pot of boiling water and stirred the contents thoroughly. It reminded him of the way he made pasta at home. Perhaps things here weren't so different after all._

_Two figures pushed carelessly past Veneziano and he briefly caught a glimpse of their faces and attire. Both were wearing long, flowery dresses and carrying unusual objects over their heads. Judging by the heat, Veneziano guessed that the objects were for protection from the sun._

_He glanced at the faces of the two passers by and took notice of their white faces and ornate hairstyles. One of them turned towards him all of a sudden and squealed in an alien but unmistakably female voice._

_Veneziano could only stand awkwardly as the two women touched him all over; from his hair down to his shoes, chatting excitedly to each other the whole time._

_Finally, they released their hold of him and beckoned to an old man with long white whiskers. The old man approached Veneziano and took his hand firmly._

* * *

_Veneziano followed the old man up a grand flight of stairs, which was flanked on each side by lines of men in darkly coloured armour and holding long spears. The old man led him into a magnificent room and there, Veneziano saw another man seated on a throne._

_The man stood up, his golden robes brushing against the floor and whispered something to an attendant, while pointing at Veneziano. He then looked straight at him and smiled broadly, opening his arms slightly as if to welcome him..._

That was where the dream had ended. He now felt a little disappointed in himself, for waking up at such an interesting moment.

Veneziano scratched his head again as he pondered the dream itself. The place he had gone to couldn't exist for real, could it? He couldn't imagine another world out there, where the people went about their lives in ways so unlike his own, speaking languages he couldn't comprehend, and eating things he never imagined existed. It was all too much, and he had an urge to tell someone everything that was on his mind, lest he be frustrated for days to come.

* * *

**This story will probably make you think 'WTF', but Veneziano was the most fitting character I could think of. I'm pretty sure there was one comic where he had a dream of meeting Japan long before World War Two, though I can't find it now.  
**

**For those who are confused about this chapter, Veneziano has found himself in an Asian country and the inhabitants find him really weird themselves, hence all the stares and touching him to see if he's real.**


	28. Sorrow

France swallowed heavily, struggling to bring himself to look at the tall, blackened, pillar. He knelt down on the ground and stretched his shaking hand out, running his fingers through dust.

Only yesterday, Joan was still a living, breathing human with emotion in her eyes and spirit in her voice, despite the fact that she was slowly wasting away in prison.

Now she was nothing. Her physical body had been destroyed by the flames and it now seemed like she had never existed, yet France could clearly remember all the times he'd spent with her.

The crowd that had gathered to see her execution had long since gone; not one of them seemed to have given a second thought to the girl who had sacrificed so much for her country and remained brave to the very end.

"I'm so sorry..." France cried, trying to hold back his tears.


	29. Happiness

The nations buzzed around the large book, all eager to see where they placed on the list. Earlier that year, the UN had conducted a global survey to find out the happiness of each country, and now the results had arrived.

"I'm in seventeenth place?! No way! I should be higher!" America protested. "I mean, you're all just a bunch of grumps compared to me!"

"America, loudly stating all of your thoughts and feelings doesn't necessarily make you a happier person." Canada tried to explain, but America didn't pay attention.

"Canada, what place did you get?"

"Sixth."

"Sixth?! How?"

"I guess I don't worry as much as you do." Canada replied confidently.

* * *

"Ha ha, guess _who's _officially the happier man?" England jeered, pointing at France.

"Whatever, I still have a better love life!"

"Why would I want to be you, anyway? I like my life the way it is!"

A hand tapped on England's shoulder and he turned around.

"Mr England, I'm one place higher than you!" Belgium said with a smile, before skipping away to join Netherlands.

"So my brother, what place did you get?" She asked cheerily, hopping beside him.

"Fourth." He answered without changing his expression.

* * *

"I can't believe it..." Hungary moaned in despair. "I'm in one hundred and tenth place. Am I really that unhappy?"

"Well, you could always like, take some anger management sessions." suggested Poland, who was in fifty-first place. "They really do work."

* * *

Meanwhile, the Eastern Europeans stood together discussing _their_ results.

"Sixty-eight," said Russia.

"Eighty-eight." Latvia whimpered.

"Eighty-seven." Ukraine murmured, lowering her head in shame.

"Ninety." Romania said quietly, which caused Ukraine to raise her head again just a bit.

"Seventy-two." Estonia said sheepishly. He turned to Lithuania curiously.

"Seventy-one." Lithuania muttered under his breath, before glancing at Belarus. She glared at him before speaking, her voice barely a whisper.

"Sixty-six..."

The Eastern Europeans all paused in disbelief at Belarus' answer. She may have received only sixty-sixth place, but it was still higher than any of them. Was she really the happiest?

* * *

"Hey, I only got sixty-third place." Vietnam said anxiously, tapping on Thailand's shoulder.

"Yes? What of it?"

"You need to give me more smiling lessons!"

"It's not that simple..." Thailand chuckled. "Happiness is something you need to work towards yourself..."

* * *

As everyone in the room chatted about each others' results, Mr United Nations took the time to make a announcement.

"Nations of the world, don't be too discouraged by how you placed. Even those who are in the top ten have a lot to improve, after all."

"Easy for him to say..." Hungary grumbled to Poland.

"So who is in the top ten?!" America shouted above everyone else. "I want to know!"

Mr United Nations looked at America and gave a sigh. He walked over and unflinchingly recited their names for the young man to hear.

"Denmark, Norway, Switzerland, Netherlands, Sweden, Canada, Finland, Austria, Iceland and Australia, in that exact order."

"W-Who?!" America stammered cluelessly.

"Us!" Denmark cheered as he approached America, followed by the other Nordics.

"Nordic Pride!" They all exclaimed, high fiving each other.

* * *

**I got the information from here, if you're curious: 2013/09/09/world-happiness-report-happiest-countri es_n_  
**

**There are plenty of other countries that I didn't include in this chapter, but you can always find out how they placed yourself if you're interested.**

**Also, just because a country is happier than another, it doesn't necessarily make it a better place to go, if you get what I mean. **


	30. Under The Rain

Iceland didn't know why he wanted to be outside on a day like this. The weatherman had predicted heavy showers and dark clouds, yet here he was standing in the rain without an umbrella or a raincoat.

His own behaviour never ceased to amaze him. _"If Norway was here, he'd definitely get mad." _He thought to himself mischievously.

He looked up at the sky daringly as the raindrops splashed against his face, soaking his hair and clothes and falling all around him in tiny puddles. He took a step backwards and kicked the nearest puddle, sending water up in the air.

The rain had a calming effect on him for some reason, Iceland had to admit. Perhaps that was why he felt inclined to wander outside in the first place.

He took one last jump into a puddle before walking back inside, making sure to wipe his shoes extra clean against the doormat.


	31. Flowers

Japan looked up, admiring the cherry blossoms in the tree branch above him. Such was their beauty, that even after living two thousand or so years, he had yet to grow tired of gazing at them. The fact that they only ever bloomed for a few days simply added to their allure.

As petals began to drop around him, he was once again reminded of the fleetingness of life.

* * *

Netherlands and Canada stood side by side, looking at the tulips they had planted together. Netherlands gazed at his companion and remembered the time he had helped shelter one of his princesses and her daughters. Ever since then, the two nations had formed a special friendship; the tulips being a symbol of their relationship.

* * *

Russia smiled in joy as he carried a bouquet of sunflowers into the house. That morning, a mysterious benefactor had dropped them outside his house and after checking several times over, Russia had come to the conclusion that they were safe to handle.

Later, he carefully placed them in a vase of water and put the vase where there would be plenty of sunlight. It seemed just a glimpse of them was enough to make him feel warm inside.

* * *

England strolled through his garden, enjoying the scent of blooming flowers and the bird songs. He stopped by a rosebush, admiring the rich red colour of the petals. Such a flower never really suited him, as he liked to think. They may have befitted royalty but they certainly did not befit him; he thought he was anything but regal in his character and manner.

Despite this, he couldn't resist gently reaching down and picking one before sniffing it, taking in it's sweet fragrance.

* * *

Belgium stood before the field of poppies, her hand clasped to her chest. Years and years before, her soldiers had been among the casualties claimed by the battles here in Ypres. Now that war was long over and the violence and the bloodshed had been replaced by multitudes of these red flowers.

She closed her eyes for a few moments, remembering the sacrifices her men had made.


	32. Night

It was 10pm and Belarus lay in bed feeling restless. It seemed that no matter how much she tossed around and counted sheep, she just couldn't get to sleep. She rolled over on her back and stared up at the ceiling, trying to think pleasant thoughts.

It didn't work. All that came into her mind were images of angry crowds protesting, demanding all sorts of shallow things and causing chaos in the process. She sat up and glared at the closed door. She didn't know about other nations, but her own citizens could really disgust her at times.

Grunting in frustration, Belarus got out of bed and switched on the light. She clumsily got dressed and made her way to the kitchen, grabbing a quick snack before wandering outside.

Belarus strolled down the street, adjusting the scarf wrapped around her head and neck, and trying to ignore the sounds of drunken youths partying and screaming at the top of their lungs. As she arrived at a traffic light, she heard glass breaking in a house nearby, followed by a woman yelling incomprehensibly.

Moments later, a middle aged man came into sight and stumbled towards her. A empty bottle was in his hand, his face was flushed red and his movements were uncoordinated. He was drunk, there was no doubt about it.

He reached out to Belarus, as if he wanted to grab hold of her, only to lose balance and flop forwards on to the pavement with a laugh.

"Idiot!" Belarus hissed at him. The traffic light flashed green and she crossed the road, leaving the man behind to his own devices.

* * *

A cold breeze blew as Belarus stopped outside the local cemetery. She gazed up at the full moon, before entering.

The gate slammed shut behind her, though it didn't startle her at all. From an early age, she knew full well that it was living beings she should fear; the dead were the dead, there was nothing they could do to harm her, and the same went for inanimate objects.

She walked slowly among the numerous graves, staying as quiet as she could in order to respect the final resting places of the deceased.

After exploring for around half an hour, Belarus finally began to feel tired. She found an old wooden bench and sat down on it, letting sleep creep over her. Nevermind she was actually in a graveyard.


	33. Expectations

The newly elected President of the French Republic read the letter that had been left on his desk, his eyes widening as he reached the end and saw the signature. He dropped the piece of paper and quickly gazed out of the window.

He didn't know what to think. This was some kind of prank, wasn't it? The previous president must have had this letter written just so he could make one last comeback. Well, he certainly wasn't going to fall for something this obvious.

The president took one last look at the letter, before scrunching it up and throwing it in the bin. He began to pace around the room, thinking hard about the policies he would install while in power.

Hurried footsteps sounded from the hall and another man dashed into the President's Office, puffing and panting. He slowly lifted his head to look at his new boss, flicking a lock of hair out of his face as he did so.

"I'm sorry for being late, Mr President. There's something you must know about me..."

"Who are you?" The President asked, straightening up and brushing a speck of dust off his suit.

"I was getting to that. Where's the letter I wrote for you?"

"A letter?"

"Yes, I left it on your desk." The man stated, motioning with his hand.

The President swallowed and remembered the paper he had thrown in the bin. Surely that wasn't the letter this fancy man wanted to see? He seemed quite serious about it.

"Which letter? There's many..." The President said as casually as he could, turning around and flipping through the pile of papers stacked on his desk.

The man blinked. "It's not there anymore, is it? The one that was signed 'Francis Bonnefoy, Republic of France?'

"Yes! How did you know?" The President exclaimed, turning back around swiftly.

"Because I wrote it, Mr President." Francis answered with a smile.

The President froze, the information sinking in. He simply stared at Francis for several seconds before breaking into a nervous chuckle.

"Ha ha, that was a good one sir! I almost thought you really were-"

"Actually I am." Francis interrupted before the President could finish. "The Republic of France, I mean."

"You're joking!"

"I am not, Mr President. I shall prove it, if you don't believe me..."

"This isn't funny anymore! You really are mad!"

Francis grabbed the President and dragged him behind a curtain as politely as he could, ignoring the protests. The President soon went quiet, as Francis began to impart secret information. What those secrets were, no one heard but the President and France. Not even the curious secretary standing outside with her ear pressed to the door could make out their words.

Francis and the President stepped away from the window and gazed at each other.

"Mr President...is the news too much for you?" Francis inquired, winking.

"No, not at all. You just...weren't what I expected."

"And what were you expecting?"

"Oh I don't know, I grew up seeing all the stamps and posters and statues...we all did. They always depicted a beautiful woman, so that's how I imagined you."

Now it was Francis' turn to laugh. "Well I am clearly not the beautiful woman you thought I was, but I'm still quite attractive, no? Don't worry, you're not the first person to react like that. Just think of it as a little inside joke..."

"What a day..." The President sighed, rubbing his forehead. "Not only do I have to take care of a whole country, but I now have you on my hands..."

"We'll get along just fine, I'm sure!" Francis reassured, patting the President on the shoulder. "There's no need to be afraid of me. I _certainly_ won't touch your wife, after all..."

* * *

**A lot of the more 'traditional' personifications of countries are quite different from the way they are portrayed in Hetalia, and I wanted to write something about it. In this case, 'Marianne' is considered to be the face of France and she is often modelled after famous women such as Brigitte Bardot, Catherine Deneuve and Laetitia Casta, all of whom are considered to be beauties.  
**


	34. Stars

Veneziano looked up the night sky, paintbrush in hand and canvas in front of him. Glancing at the stars, back to his canvas and so forth, he tried to observe as much detail as he could. He started to paint, colouring a corner dark blue and continuing from there. Every now and then, he would add a speck of yellow to represent each star.

Of course, as the hours passed, the sky gradually grew lighter and the stars began to fade. As a result, Veneziano ended up having to rush halfway through and painted the rest of his picture rather carelessly. He finished and left it to dry, before hurrying off to bed.


	35. Hold My Hand

Lithuania and Belarus walked through the street on their way to buy food for the day. Belarus seemed very uncomfortable indeed and as a result, was shrinking against the wall, avoiding contact with Lithuania. He stopped and looked at her with concern, stretching his hand out.

"Hold my hand. We are a married couple, after all."

Belarus simply glared threateningly at him without responding to his request until he gave up, withdrawing his hand. The two of them continued on, approaching the bakery.

Lithuania entered the bakery by himself, as Belarus stood outside waiting. She couldn't understand a word he was saying to the baker, which made her feel uneasy.

When she was part of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth, Poland had taught her how to speak his language yet she never really got around to learning Lithuanian properly. She only knew a few basic words such as 'hello' and 'goodbye', so instead, it was often Lithuania having to talk to her in Polish or Russian.

Lithuania exited the bakery, holding a single loaf of bread. He grabbed Belarus' hand without a word and she flinched, trying to break free. There was a 'snap' as she did so, and she hoped it wasn't her own fingers that had made the noise.

The two of them then walked to the fishmonger's. This time, Belarus was forced to accompany Lithuania inside. The smell of fish guts made her wrinkle her nose in disgust and she stared at the burly man slicing fish and spilling blood on to the cutting board.

Again, Lithuania spoke to the man in words she couldn't understand, before he collected his purchase.

"Why do we always go shopping at your place?" Belarus asked, on the way home.

"Sorry if you didn't really like it here, but it wasn't always this boring. It's just that so many people have been leaving recently and I don't always know where they go...maybe next time we can go to your place?"

"You'd better remember..." Belarus hissed, linking hands with him and squeezing tightly. "I won't let go until you swear."

* * *

**Sorry if there are any inaccuracies. From what I heard, the Lithuanian-speaking population in Vilnius during the early twentieth century was only a small minority, so there's an inconsistency right there.  
**

**Then again, you could also think of it as Lithuania choosing to specifically visit places where he can still speak his native language, so that he doesn't end up forgetting it completely.**


	36. Precious Treasure

Antonio lugged the heavy wooden chest out from the deep hole he had dug, grunting in effort. He gave it a heave and it came out completely, landing on the ground before him.

"It's been a while. Let's see how you've been, baby."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his special key, that had been designed to be the only one in the world that could open this treasure chest. He inserted it into the hole and turned, only barely able to contain his excitement.

The lid clicked open and he lifted it slowly, his smile quickly fading and becoming a frown.

"No, that can't be...no...no...No! No!"

Antonio screamed in rage and kicked the now half-empty box, not even caring about the pain it brought to his foot. He turned around, breathing heavily and saw that on a nearby tree, was a crudely carved image of an Union Jack.

Moments later, a gunshot sounded and there was an explosion of bark as Antonio stood with his pistol aimed at the tree. It was fortunate that nobody else happened to be with him at the time, since the look in his eyes at that moment would have been enough to make even Berwald, the fearsome Lion of Scandinavia, cower in fear.

"I'll catch that Englishman...and when I do, I shall tear out his entrails and use them as rope...then I shall cut off his feet and hands and crush his skull...his pain will be my pleasure..."

* * *

**This is supposed to take place in a Pirate AU, just so you know. Sorry for making Spain out of character, but it was kind of necessary in this context.  
**


	37. Eyes

Outside a nightclub in Stockholm, a car came to a stop by the kerb. One of the car doors swung open and a young man climbed out hastily, wearing his best clothes for the event.

Just before he closed the car door behind him, his mother gave him some quick advice like she always did.

"Take care. Don't leave your drink unattended, and don't take things from strangers. If there's any trouble, I want you to leave right away and come back here. Understand?"

"Yes, Mum..." The young man sighed impatiently. Why couldn't she tell him something he didn't know for once?

He waved goodbye to his mother and made his way to the entrance of the nightclub.

* * *

A tall, well-built man with blond hair and glasses stood by the entrance doors, glaring at him as he approached.

"Good evening." The tall man said in a harsh tone, crossing his arms. "What's your name? Mine's Berwald."

The young man shuddered under Berwald's gaze and wandered why the air had just dropped several degrees in temperature. He tried to focus on something else other than the intimidating man before him, but instead he found himself drawn into Berwald's piercing blue eyes.

They were so cold and pale like ice, yet there seemed to be a certain warmth in them too. A sense of ease came over the young man and he relaxed, even allowing himself a smile.

"Before you come in, I'd just like to see your ID."

* * *

**Basically, Sweden is doing work as a bouncer for a nightclub. There's a headcanon that the nations sometimes do part-time work to find out more about their citizens. **

**Since he is well, Sweden and obviously speaks Swedish, I figured his speech would sound pretty normal to his own people.**


	38. Abandoned

Romano woke up one morning to an unusually quiet house and immediately wondered what had happened to his brother and grandfather. He was always the last to wake, so what was different about today? He threw off his blanket and rubbed his tired eyes, before plodding out into the hall.

"Veneziano, I'm up!" He called out, expecting his younger brother to reply. When only silence followed, Romano called once again for his grandfather.

"Grandpa, where's breakfast?! I'm hungry!"

Romano's stomach rumbled on cue, and he clutched his hands to his chest. If only he had behaved better yesterday, then perhaps he wouldn't have been sent to bed without dinner.

A loaf of dried bread rested on a plate on the dining table, and Romano reached for it. He took large, hungry bites until the last piece had disappeared down his throat.

After his morning meal he walked outside and sat down on the doorstep, hoping to catch sight of his brother and grandfather returning over the hill to see him.

An hour passed and Romano grew tired of waiting. He walked back inside in disappointment and glanced at a portrait of Grandpa that was on the wall.

"Grandpa, you don't really like me, do you? Even when you claim otherwise, you don't mean it at all. I can see it in your eyes..."

* * *

**You know how when Veneziano was little, Ancient Rome just took him away so they could do various things together such as painting and architecture? This is what I think Romano might have thought after that happened.**


End file.
